Forgotten
by sandydragon
Summary: The short story of Mheetu's life.


Everyone has always overlooked me. When I was born, the pride had little hope for the future. Instead of celebrating my birth, they mourned the loss of their leader and his son. It had been weeks since Scar had taken over yet nobody had gotten over the two deaths. I was only seen as another mouth to feed in soon to be desperate times.

I was the smallest cub that anyone had ever seen. Even by the standards of premature births I was far too feeble and small. Some of the very first things I heard were horrible rumors about what an omen I was. Simba had been a sign of prosperous times they said. With him gone and a puny cub like me being the next one born, everyone thought the pride would enter its darkest hour. Even my own mother, Sarafina, didn't always seem to love me. She was always worried about how depressed Nala had become. I could swear I'd even heard her crying and wishing Simba was there instead of me. At least she still took care of me and sometimes I could even get her to smile a little. I had no such luck with my big sister for a long time.

Nala almost never even looked at me when I was little. I remember the first time she looked at me she burst into tears just because she almost compared me to Simba. I can understand that she must have felt horrible. If I'd ever had a friend, I'd be upset too if they died. But I never really had one. I was already a year old by the time Nala even bothered to try and play with me. Sometimes we'd frolic through the grasslands, wrestle, or even try to catch beautiful butterflies. Then I'd get lucky and see my sister start smiling. She even laughed with me every great once in a while. But usually, she'd stop playing suddenly and start crying hysterically. Even when she managed to hold back her tears she still sulked away from me when she got upset. I tried to cheer her up. I really did. All that my efforts got me were angry screams about how I could never replace Simba.

None of the other cubs ever really bonded with me either. Even when food and water were still plentiful, they never seemed happy to see me. I was always too frail to wrestle with them and even when we played something less violent, like hide and seek, they never let me win. They usually just snuck away when I wasn't looking. Apparently they thought I was too much of a baby to have fun with. It was even worse when they talked to me about why they didn't like me. I was a loser. Simba had been cooler, smarter, and even better looking than me. I was too scrawny. The reasons were endless. But the effects of the insults were always the same. I would go back to the den or some other quiet place and cry. Even when I slept, I was still stuck crying through my nightmares. Pretty soon every hyena loved to joke about the puny crybaby loner.

As torturous as my life had been before, it only got worse when the drought came. Even Nala and mom got harsher with me. Scar even forced me to help hunt with the lionesses. I always knew I could never hunt well. Nobody ever bothered to teach me. Somehow I always hindered or ruined the hunt. I would sneeze too loud, pounce too soon, or even snap a twig almost every time without fail. Then the real torment would begin. Still larger than me and growing harsher under Scar's reign, the older cubs would beat me after every failed hunt. I was the scapegoat. As Scar turned a blind eye to them, the other cubs would claw at me and bite me until I fainted, screamed bloody murder, or they got sick of me. Eventually I was stuck on cub duty with some of the oldest, weakest, most senile lionesses so that I wouldn't hinder the ill fated hunts any more.

There was only one cub young enough to be watched back then. Scar's mate Zira often left him to hunt for Scar, so I was stuck with Nuka. He was only a few months old, but he sure knew how to get under my skin. Being scrawny and mistreated himself, I thought he might become my first friend for a while. As it turned out, he just wanted to dominate somebody for once. His pregnant mother never bothered to correct him when I told her he insulted me day in and day out. I tried to gain his respect by play wrestling him once, but that creep fought with his claws out and his teeth bared. Scar actually laughed when he saw what a bruised and bloodied wreck I was after that. When Vitani was born, I never bothered to try and befriend her. Her family was too crazy and violent for me. Zira even planned to kill a rogue lioness to claim her male cub as an heir for Scar. Too bad I never got to see the result while I was alive.

Not wanting to wait for Zira's plot to be finished, Scar tried to find another mate. That sick creeper started eyeballing my older sister in places that I really don't want to think about. One day, she finally confronted him about it in front of the whole pride. When he tried to make her his mate, my crazy sister smacked Scar right in the face. I wanted to cheer for her, but soon I felt a massive paw colliding with my head. As I slammed into a cold, unforgiving rock, my vision faded out. I heard the pride's horrified screams, but I couldn't make out the words. Soon I felt my soul peel away from my puny and disfigured corpse as it ascended into the heavens.

I still watched my family from above. I saw my mother die from starvation. I prayed for Nala as she made her escape. I rejoiced when Simba returned and restored my home to its full glory. But my happiness didn't last. Weeks turned into months and Nala never told Simba about my existence. I had become nothing to her. A faint, suppressed memory of her past. Even as I observe her daughter and my former home, I can no longer feel happy. I am nothing to them now. I am forgotten.


End file.
